


Friday Night at the Drive-In

by Kittenly



Series: Halfway to Heaven and Just a Mile Out 'A Hell [2]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Movie Night, Multi, Polyamory, V-shaped poly relationship, almost crack?, goofball shenanigans, snapshot from slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 04:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8273786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenly/pseuds/Kittenly
Summary: It's the little things that make life worth living. Cold autumn nights. Blossoming romance. And of course, sappy old movies.





	

The Starlight Drive-In Theatre was a bit of a dump. And that really meant something when some of our settlements were built on literal dumps. The broad, mostly flat concrete was fine for building shelters on, but you couldn’t really grow anything or build a well.

And despite the alluring pond in the middle of the old lot, water was a real problem. You could technically drink from it. I mean, you’d probably die in a week from cancer, but hey--life’s full of choices.

I could have dragged myself into the old hazmat suit I kept in my bag, but that would require effort. And I was here in this sorry excuse for a settlement to have a nice night, dammit.

“Hey Hancock,” I said. He was sprawled in the bed of an old truck, eyes closed, soaking up some of the last autumn warmth before the dark New England winter arrived. I couldn’t help but look him over.

It’s funny. Sometimes you know someone’s an ugly fucker, objectively, but you just can’t see it anymore. That’s how it is with Hancock. Weird ghoul skin, tall and thin as a rail, no nose, and that ridiculous Founding Father getup. But when I look at him, he just looks how he’s supposed to.

“‘Sup, Sunshine,” he said, not opening his eyes.

“Need you to do something for me.”

He cracked one eye open and frowned at me. “And what’s that?”

I jabbed my thumb over my shoulder. “I wanna fence off Radiation Springs over there,” I said. “I don’t wanna fall in if I have to go pee during the movie. There’s some fencing over by the concessions stand.”

Hancock sighed like I was asking him to do some monumental task. “Why can’t you do it?” he asked.

“Because I need to go help Valentine pick the movie.”

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” he said. He dragged himself up, adjusted his tricorn, and we set off towards the concession stand.

He moved like a cat, all loose limbs and casual grace. It was weird, noticing these things. We’d known each other for so long, been friends for most of that time. But suddenly it was like a switch in me had flipped and I kept seeing him for the first time.

He must have noticed me staring because he caught my eye and grinned. But this was my best friend, and I knew him better than he knew himself. I saw the tension around his mouth, the twitch of muscles around his eyes as the grin didn’t quite reach. He still didn’t believe me when I said I wanted him. Loved him? sure, no problem. I’d loved him with my whole heart when we were simply friends, and he knew that. But wanting him, wanting to be with him, I could tell he doubted me.

And I guess he had reason to. I’d turned him down before, gently as I could. And I also had Valentine, the rusty toaster of my heart. Hancock had witnessed that whole disaster of romantic initiation and had cackled the whole damn time.

Before I had the chance to ask him anything about it, he walked off to haul some scrap. I sighed, not sure what to do. Usually I’d wait it out, let him figure out where he wanted to take things. But this limbo had been going on for two weeks, and Hancock hadn’t brought it up at all. He avoided me in little ways, all while trying to make it look like he wasn’t.

Valentine was muttering to himself when I entered the little shack. I found him in the back surrounded by large reels of film, peering at the strips. The names had long worn off, and so the only way to determine what movie we might find was to try and squint and recognize something. It was the worst part about movie night, and it made my head pound. So I dumped the task off on Valentine. He was frustrated even without eyeballs to strain--I could hear the barest whisper of a fan from his insides.

“Find anything worth watching?” I asked as I plopped down beside him. I pressed my hand against his cheek. A little warm, but nothing to worry about.

“Not yet,” he said. “Found something--an old noir flick. But it’s all tangled and I’m not sure I can get it loose without ripping it.”

“Seems appropriate,” I said. Without looking, he handed me the tangle of film. It was a mess, but with a patient hand, I thought I could get it free with minimal damage.

“See what you can do,” he said. “I’ll keep looking, see if there’s anything a little less high maintenance.”

We worked together in companionable silence for a while. Me gently unraveling the knot of film, and Valentine going through the reels trying to find anything he recognized. After too long of fighting with the mess, I tossed it aside and leaned against him.

“You’re not usually so quick to give up,” he remarked. “Something on your mind?”

It was phrased as a question but he didn’t mean it as one. Damn bot could read me like I was a giant, obnoxious billboard flashing my feelings in lights.

“I dunno what to do about Hancock,” I said. “I thought confessions of love were supposed to be the tipping point. Then things got easier. ‘Least, that’s how it worked with you.”

Valentine stayed quiet but I could tell he was considering something. “It’s different, I think,” he said at last. “Looking back, you and me...we’d been together long before we actually realized it, let alone said anything. We just put a name to what was already there. This thing you’ve got with Mr. Mayor’s a different beast.”

“You figure?”

Valentine nodded and turned and looked at me. He was frowning, a slight pull at the corners of his mouth. His thinking face, I liked to call it. A personal favorite expression of mine.

“Well, yeah,” he continued. “You changed the whole damn game on him. It’s a lot to process. And you’re probably not helping matters much going on the way you are.”

“Doing what?” I asked defensively, “Giving him space to figure things out?”

“That’s not what you’re doing, Darling, and I think you know it deep down.”

I knew he was serious when he called me Darling and it was just the two of us. He was in Partner Mode. Valentine and Darling, on the case together. Though I didn’t like it when I was one of the subjects under investigation. His look peeled my skin away, and I could literally hear his clever brain hum as he sifted through me for answers.

Sometimes it still terrified me how well Valentine could read me.

“I don’t know what to do then,” I said. It felt like poison to actually admit it.

“Work the case, Detective,” he said. “He’s just another nut to crack. Got motives, desires, insecurities, just like anyone else.”

I gave a dry laugh. “He’s not a suspect to interrogate,” I said. “He’s my…” I trailed off. “Fuck, I don’t even know, Valentine.”

“Seems like that’s a good place to start then. What is he to you? What do you him to be? Does he know that?”

I considered that for a moment, focusing on my breathing. My chest clamped down whenever I thought about Hancock. I let out a long breath and slumped further against my old bot. He moved automatically, shifting so I could press myself into the crook of his side and lean my head against what remained of the synthetic skin on his neck.

“I dunno. Hancock’s my best friend. But that doesn’t really work anymore. Fuck, boyfriend just sounds juvenile. And well, you’re my partner. And whatever this is, it ain't quite the same as what we got.”

“You do tend to do a little less investigating and more cracking heads,” Valentine said with a chuckle. “You wanna know what I think?”

“Always.”

“I think neither of you know what you’re getting into. And you gotta just jump in and see what you make. But he’s been waiting for you for so long, I don’t think he knows how to do anything else at this point. You wanna make something out of the two of you, you’re gonna need to be the one to make it happen.”

As much as I didn’t like it, what Valentine said made a certain amount of sense. Hancock had always been a man of action, who threw words around with little regard to their weight. He wasn’t Valentine. Things I just said weren’t gonna be enough for him. Not on their own. And that meant it was on me.

Could I even do that? Every part of me screamed in protest. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized Valentine was right. I could hint at or insinuate 'til the world ended _again_ and that wouldn't get Hancock closer to believing me. If I wanted him--really wanted him, I’d have to make the first move.

I didn’t want to go in without a plan and at least three contingencies. It just wasn’t my style. But God in heaven, I needed Hancock. Needed things to be okay between us again, at the very least.

I picked up the nearest undamaged film reel. It was in our “who even knows” pile of films we couldn’t place or begin to make sense of.

“Let’s just go with this one,” I said. “If it’s shit we’ll just have a laugh.”

“Sure, sure,” Valentine said. “But come back to that noir sometime and see if you can get it ready. That’s something I’d like to see.”

* * *

As it grew dark, the three of us hauled the least stained mattress into the bed of a truck. Autumn nights were cold, so I’d gathered up some blankets. As we settled into our little rig, the film rolled. The audio came out loud but tinny from the speaker I’d fixed next to us. Music played, and I could have swore the tune sounded familiar.

But I had more important things on my mind than the movie. Sweet baby Jesus, I felt like a teenage kid again, trying to put the moves on the boy I liked. In retrospect, I guess it had worked on Nate. But I think that said more about him than whatever wooing skills I may or may not have.

I guess it don’t matter if you’re fourteen or two hundred-forty. Some things are always gonna be awkward.

I didn’t exactly feel smooth or sexy wrapped in a mound of blankets, but I forced myself to talk anyway.

“Hancock,” I said. He was looking at the screen intently. I hadn’t processed anything that was going on, but whatever it was, it seemed to grab Hancock’s attention real good.

“Shoot,” he said, his eyes not leaving the screen.

“It’s awfully cold.”

“Guess it’s a little nippy,” he said absently.

This was going terribly.

I sighed. Valentine was right. There was only one way this relationship was even gonna reach the starting line.

“Hancock,” I said more forcefully.

He finally looked at me, though maybe glared would be a better word for it. “I’m trying to watch the damn movie.”

“And I’m trying to start our damn relationship. Now join me in the blanket pile, kiss me during the sappy parts, and I expect at least a little groping.”

I dunno if ghouls even can blush and anyway, it was too dark to tell. But I promise, if he could, he was.

“You gonna keep a pretty girl waiting?” Valentine asked. I could hear the smug smile in his voice. Hancock glared, but Valentine just grinned wider.

“Fine, you know what,” I spat, extracting myself from the blankets. Hancock shrunk back a little. Probably thought I was giving up on him.

So he wasn’t prepared when I grabbed him by his stupid lacy lapels and planted one right on his mouth. It was a little weird, kissing him at first. My mouth wasn’t sure what to do with his ghouly skin, and the lack of a nose was disorienting. But it also felt so nice, feeling his breath against mine. The heat radiating from his face in the cold night air.

I pulled away after just a second or two. He stared at me for a handful of seconds without moving, and then his eyes narrowed. What he did next I can best describe as pounce, or maybe attack, or maybe fling himself on me. All I really recall was that suddenly I was being pressed into the mattress and Hancock’s mouth was on mine. And his hands…

Fuck, his hands were everywhere.

I don’t know how long that first round lasted. It was like being on Jet and Calmex at the same time. Everything happened so fast, but when he finally drew away, if felt like hours had passed.

He sat back so he was straddling me. I propped myself up on my elbows and didn’t even try to suppress the shit-eating grin I knew was spreading across my face.

We just looked at each other for a moment, then Hancock frowned slightly. He reached down by head and picked up his tricorn where it must have fallen off. Then, with a smug smile he slide it back onto his head.

“You still doubt that my intentions towards you are anything but impure and scandalous?” I asked.

He laughed, a genuine cackle I hadn’t heard in far too long.

“Color me convinced, Sunshine,” he said, leaning back over me. His mouth was just as hungry and demanding the second time. Though this time, that ridiculous man kept one hand free to hold his hat onto his head.

When we came up for air, I spotted Valentine shooting us an exasperated glance. Hancock must’ve seen it too, ‘cause he gave Valentine a toothy grin and then proceeded to wrap me and him up in the mountain of blankets.

“Always room for another, Detective,” Hancock said.

“You’re not my type, Mr. Mayor,” Valentine said easily.

“Your loss,” Hancock and I said at the exact same time. He squeezed me tighter, his hands finding their way under my shirt. Damn his touch felt so good. I leaned back against him, letting my own hands wander.

The movie was alright. It was some 20th century classic about a big boat. The best part was the “villain” character. Whenever he’d show up on screen, Hancock and I would shout, “Just shank the bastard!” while Valentine side-eyed us.

Both men got really emotional when the boat finally sank. As Romantic-Man-Lead died, I heard snuffling from both of them. The movie itself hadn’t really gotten to my heart (which Hancock often insisted was cold and shrunk into leather). But hearing it get to my two boys--both were just bundles of exposed nerves when it came to feelings--that pulled a little.

Credits rolled. Fuck--that’s where I knew the music from! _My Heart Will Go On_ had haunted middle school dances for over sixty years back where I came from. I still had the lyrics burned into my brain from childhood.

As Celine belted out her final verse, I turned to my boys.

“So I think we should talk about what’s happening between the three of us now,” I said.

Well what I thought was a perfectly reasonable request was met with both Valentine and Hancock groaning.

“It’s three in the morning,” Hancock said. “We can talk tomorrow.”

“But--”

“Go to bed, Darling,” Valentine said.

“But with who?” I demanded. “See this is what I’m talking about!”

“Oh, for the love of…” Valentine rubbed at his head. “I’m going for a walk. You two have a nice night.”

I almost went after him, but Hancock and the blankets were holding me back.

“We’ll talk about it in the morning,” Hancock said pulling me in tighter. “Will you chill out?”

“When have I ever chilled out?” I demanded.

“Never. I’ve heard it’s one of the great wonders of the world to behold. Now go. The fuck. To sleep.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes they watched Titanic. Hancock love it.


End file.
